


why do i want to

by merines



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, i don't know what this is, well Zayn's cameo is like two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merines/pseuds/merines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's frustrating, really, how there are millions of people crowded into this country and yet he somehow keeps running into goddamn Harry.</p><p>Or an AU where Louis refuses to admit he thinks Harry is cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	why do i want to

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I don't have a beta. I don't know what I think of this. It started out as a creative writing assignment for class then somehow turned into this hot mess.
> 
> The title is from I'm Just Your Problem from Adventure Time. Hollaaaa.

Louis is pretty decent at predicting how nights will turn out. He isn’t anything like a psychic; he scoffs at the term and anyone who uses it unironically. But his ratio of being correct on whether or not someone gets laid or if they will end up doing something illegal is pretty high. He’s almost proud of this ability, to be perfectly honest. Which is probably why, when the pretty boy he has been dancing with vomits on him, that Louis is so pissed. That, and the fact that there’s sick all over his new jeans, but that goes without being said.

The guy looks mortified—his name is Harvey, or something, that detail became unimportant the moment his dinner exited his stomach and onto Louis—and he keeps slurring his frantic apologies. Louis takes a deep breath and counts to ten before pasting a too wide smile on his face. He can’t cause a scene here. He’s already on his last strike in this particular club because apparently the owners don’t appreciate people turning bar tops into a slip and slide of beer. _Whatever_ , it’s their loss. They would totally double their profits that way. So Louis just tries his best to calm down, which is a tad difficult considering he’s also pretty drunk. He can be pretty rude on a normal day, and with alcohol in his system that gets multiplied. And as much as Harvey is annoying him at the moment, Louis doesn’t want to make him cry. He looks like the kind of guy who scares easily with his pouty lips and wide eyes.

So he politely excuses himself before he all but runs to the bathroom. Louis can hear Harvey calling after him, but Louis ignores that in favor of the beautiful sink that’s calling his name. Until he actually reaches the sink, anyway, because then he has a clear view of how disgusting everything is in the dirty mirror. Grabbing a bunch of paper towels and wetting them, he does his best to scrub away the sick. And while he does manage to get rid of most of it, there’s still a stain present and a very suspect smell. Well, there goes his night. He’s pretty sure any potential hookup would be too wasted to notice, but there is no way Louis is staying in these clothes longer than necessary. He sends out a quick text to Stan and Eleanor, telling them that he’s leaving early, and then hurriedly heads to the exit. He almost makes it before someone blocks his path.

Louis groans once he sees who it is. “Look, Harvey. It’s been fun, but I’m going home.”

He looks confused. “My name’s not—“

But Louis doesn’t hear the rest, because he’s already sidestepping him and marching straight out the door. What a terrible, awful night, he thinks. It looks like he won’t be getting a TV show called That’s So Louis after all.

* * *

 

The next morning isn’t any better. He wakes up with his head pounding—a souvenir from a night that was not that enjoyable. He tries to recall Harvey, but the only thing his foggy brain can bring up is hair long enough to curl his fingers into and lanky limbs. Everything else is overshadowed by the not so pleasant aftermath of their bodies grinding against each other’s on the crowded dance floor. Well, the chances of them running into each other again are pretty slim. London is a big city, after all, so that is one awkward conversation he can happily avoid.

He spares a glance at his cell phone to see six missed calls and a much larger number of text messages. They’re all mostly from Eleanor with one text from Stan that Louis can’t even decipher because it’s so misspelled. At least one person seemed to have a good time last night. While he wants nothing more to throw his duvet over his head and fall back asleep, he knows that if he doesn’t reply back to Eleanor it will only be a matter of time before she bursts through his door in a frenzy. So Louis quickly sends out a text saying that he’s fine and that no, he did not whore himself out last night, before slipping out of bed and into the shower.

He’s more awake after that, but he is still plagued with the urge to crawl into bed and die. He considers it, spending the whole day wrapped up in blankets while marathoning whatever he can find on Netflix, but he vaguely remembers that he made plans to take Lottie sightseeing. She arrived in the city two days ago on some sort of class trip, and she asked if she could spend her one free day with him. And, because Louis is a shit psychic, he happily agreed since past him did not expect to be sporting the hangover from hell. Seriously, fuck Harvey. With that in mind, he gets dressed and makes himself a much needed cup of tea. It helps somewhat. He still doesn’t want to move though.

He’s close to drifting off to sleep on the couch when a knock at the door startles him. Niall had offered to pick Lottie up from the hotel she’s staying at because he lives closer to it, and Louis can recognize his loud and insistent banging. That and his familiar accent yelling at Louis to open the damn door already. The giggles that accompany it tells Louis that his sister is, indeed, with him. With a groan, he lifts himself off the cushions to pull open the door. He is immediately greeted by two bodies slamming into him, laughing wildly, and normally Louis would become agitated at the close contact while his head is threatening to explode. But he is willing to give these two a pass considering he adores them to pieces, so he hugs them tightly in return instead of slamming the door in their much too cheery faces.

“You look like shit,” Lottie says once she pulls away enough to get a good look at him.

“They went out without me,” Niall explains, shaking his head as if the idea of people having fun while not in his presence is ridiculous. “I’m guessing he drank outside his weight class.”

“Fuck off,” Louis mutters, then instantly regrets it when he remembers that he is not supposed to be cussing in front of his little sister. Although she did it first, so that probably gives him a free pass or something. His mother will surely understand. “Let’s not talk about last night.”

Lottie’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Why? Did something happen last night?”

“And is it appropriate to talk about in front of your underage sibling?”

Louis almost shoves them right out the door at that, but they move past him and make themselves at home in his flat. It’s really not that big. Or big at all, really, but with his wage he can’t really afford anything better. He sometimes regrets turning down Eleanor’s invitation to move in with her, but he didn’t think that her boyfriend at the time would appreciate the two living together. Especially considering they have a tendency of cuddling half naked in bed. It’s completely platonic cuddling, of course, but apparently their constant reminding that Louis is most definitely gay was not convincing enough. She’s single now, but she already found another flatmate. So now Louis is stuck in his cramped flat in his cramped building in his cramped neighborhood. It’s not that he hates it or anything though. He is just currently in a mood where he wants to complain about everything and its mother.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” he asks. It’s an obvious subject change, but with the way Lottie’s face lights up at the question he knows that it worked. She loves London a lot more than he does.

“I want to check out some stores my friends have been telling me about,” she says excitedly. “And can we eat out somewhere? I’ve been living off of room service and takeaway in the hotel, and I want something good. Oh, and—“

“Okay,” Louis interjects. “I get it. I’m going to be spending a lot of money on you today. No need to rub it in.”

She just smiles and flutters her eyelashes at him before running off to the bathroom.  He can hear Niall sniggering behind him, and Louis has to stop himself from flipping the bloke off. “I don’t know why you think this is funny. You’re coming with us.”

“Yeah, but I’m not paying.”

“I hate you so much.”

They chat idly while playing the new Grand Theft Auto until Lottie decides it’s time to head out. Thankfully by then Louis feels less like death and can actually function like a semi-normal human being. For the most part, anyway. When they step outside into the sunlight Louis actually hisses, causing his two companions to cackle madly at his discomfort. Once again he finds himself cursing Harvey, even though the guy did not make him drink. Still, it’s much easier placing all the blame onto him. It makes Louis feel better about his life choices. The first few stops they visit are a series of shops that are so similar in content that they start to blur together. Lottie wants something from every one of them, which makes Louis wince every time he has to dig through his already puny wallet. But he did promise that he would spoil her when they planned this weeks ago, and he would feel guilty if he went back on that. He knows that his mom is having more trouble in the financial department at the moment than he is, so a small spending spree is the least he can do to help out.

After the eighth store Niall suggests that they stop for lunch. Well, it’s less of a suggestion and more of him physically pushing them into the first restaurant he sees, after complaining loudly of starvation while Lottie browsed through shoe racks. Louis never been here before. It’s a dainty little place, with mismatched chairs and strange artwork on the walls. That, and the fact that the music that plays softly in the background is anything but mainstream, tells Louis that this is probably some sort of hipster hangout. They look pretty out of place, carrying bags with brand clothing and Niall in his footie jersey, but no one inside pays them any mind. Or almost no one, because one of the waiters appears besides them.

“Welcome to Delilah’s,” he chirps. “Feel free to seat your—oh.”

Oh. Oh no is more like it, Louis thinks, because that waiter is way too familiar for his liking. Even though the images from the night before are mostly blurry, Louis recognizes that voice. It’s slow, like each syllable takes it time to cross over his tongue out to the open. And he knows those curls, distinctly remembers pulling on them until he was pushing them away. Yes, he definitely knows who this is. Fucking Harvey. Except his nametag reads Harry. And that only annoys Louis further—how dare he lie about his name? Then again, Louis was never even sure if Harvey was his actual name or not. He thinks that the guy actually protested when Louis vocalized the name, but he didn’t really care at the time. Or now, really. The only thing that matters right now is getting Lottie and Niall to walk out of this place or else this meal is going to be extremely awkward.

But the two, oblivious to Louis’ internal crisis, are already walking towards a table near the window. Harry and Louis just stand there, staring at each other, and it isn’t until Niall calls out for him that Louis snaps out of it and hurries on over. Once they’re seated, Harry quietly sets three menus down and asks what they would like to drink.

“Vodka,” Lottie says happily. Niall high fives her.

Louis rolls his eyes at them. He finds it’s easier to talk to Harry if he’s focusing on someone else. “She’d like a coke, actually. I’ll have iced tea. And Niall…”

“What she’s having,” the blond finishes.

Harry nods, casts one last nervous glance at Louis, and turns away from them. Louis watches him go, and he can’t help but appreciate the view. There had to have been a reason that he chose the guy last night, after all, and it’s good to see that his taste remains quite excellent even when he’s so drunk that he practically pisses liquor. A nice body still isn’t enough to unsour his opinion, though, so Louis tears his eyes away and settles them on the two sitting in front of him. He instantly regrets this decision when he notices the identical looks of amusement on their faces.

“Like what you see?” Lottie grins. Louis curses the day that she reached puberty because she has been insufferable ever since.

“I don’t fawn over every guy I see,” Louis protests. “That’s such a stereotype.”

Niall snorts. “I definitely recall you shoving your tongue down my throat at one point, mate.”

Lottie squeals at the news, her cheeks flushing. Louis just rolls his eyes though. “And _I_ definitely recall that being your idea. So don’t put it all on me, you dick.”

The blond shrugs his shoulders because yeah, he can’t really argue there. Alcohol and boredom can make magical yet disturbing things that you instantly regret happen. But at least with Niall, things can never get awkward. Louis had actually worried about that incident the next day, dreading to learn of how Niall would react to him once he was sober. But the next time he saw him, Niall just grinned mischievously and puckered his lips until Louis laughingly shoved him off. If there is one thing Louis is absolutely certain of, it’s that he has excellent taste in best friends.

A cough brings him out of his thoughts. Harry is back already, shuffling shyly as he places their drinks onto the table. He might have heard the end of their conversation with how he gives Niall an odd look when he slides the coke over to him. He asks if they need more time to browse the menu, and even though he’s addressing all of them, his eyes keep finding their way back to Louis. It’s maddening, really, because Niall and Lottie are definitely noticing that something is up now. When Harry walks away, Louis excuses himself on the pretense of going to the restroom and follows the waiter.

“You,” Louis hisses when he deems them a safe distance away from the others. “Harvey.”

“It’s Harry,” he frowns, but he stops walking to look at Louis. “What is it?”

What is it? Really? He’s going to pretend that he hasn’t been uncomfortably tiptoeing around Louis since he arrived? How very dare he. Louis huffs, crossing his arms over his chest in what he hopes is an intimidating manner.  “I should be asking you that question. You’re acting like you have a stick up your arse.”

For a split second, Harry looks like he’s going to argue. But then his expression changes, and he shakes his head. His curls bounce at the action, and Louis kind of wants to pet them. He doesn’t, of course, because Harry sucks and Louis is above such things.

“Sorry,” Harry finally says. ”For—you know. Last night. That was you, right? The one I…”

“Puked your guts on?”

He blushes. “Sorry.”

“Now, Harvey—“

“Harry.”

“—do I seem like the type of guy to hold a grudge?”

Harry doesn’t answer. Probably because Louis is definitely the type to hold grudges, and he is not even trying to hide it right now. Still, Louis has to appreciate the guy’s good sense to keep quiet. But there’s a ghost of a smirk on Harry’s lips, like he’s not sure if he should find this situation amusing or not, and it’s grating on Louis’ nerves. Like, how _dare_ he think this is funny? This is very much not funny. Harry should be on his knees, begging for forgiveness! Those were brand new jeans and they were christened with sick on their very first venture. Just thinking about it makes him mad. But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and Louis realizes that Harry has been talking this whole time.

“So, is that okay?”

Louis stares blankly at him. “What?”

“You weren’t—right. Um, okay. Your meal is going to be on the house. As an apology for my terrible seducing skills.”

Louis laughs. Then instantly hates himself for laughing, because he is not supposed to find this guy funny. He already decided that Harvey—Harry, whatever—is going to be a scapegoat for all of his problems and him being funny is going to make that more difficult. Still, he can’t argue with getting free food out of this ordeal. His bank account is definitely thankful for it. “That’s one way to apologize. And seducing, really? Is that kind of talk appropriate for work?”

He shrugs, and the smile that has been hiding is finally out now. “Work that you’re distracting me from."

Horrified, Louis realizes that it probably seems like he is coming onto the guy. And that is, like, the opposite of what he is doing. He doesn’t want to make friends with Harry; he just wants to cut the tension that’s been hanging over them in half so he can have a peaceful lunch then leave. He purses his lips together and goes back to the table. Niall and Lottie are in some sort of argument about penguins, and Louis wonders what it says about him that he doesn’t question it.

The rest of the meal passes by normally, although Louis can’t help but notice that Harry is no longer awkward around him whenever he comes by. In fact, he’s flat out flirting with him. He almost regrets seeking him out like that except the whole free food thing greatly overshadows that feeling. Still, he makes a great effort to never look at the waiter directly and to address him in the most curt sentences as possible. The behavior earns a few raised eyebrows from Niall, but whatever. Louis does not need to explain himself to anyone.

“Explain yourself,” Niall says when they’re exiting the restaurant. Louis can see Harry happily waving them off as they go through the door, and he almost growls in response. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond, who just leans in closer so that Lottie, who is on the phone with their mum, doesn’t overhear. “What’s the story between the two of you?”

Louis considers lying. He almost does it, almost says that was the first time they met, but he stops. Why would he lie? This is actually a pretty hilarious story to share, now that he’s actually thinking about it. And what are the chances of running into Harry again? Sure, that’s what he thought this morning, but now all he has to do is avoid this particular restaurant and everything will be aces. So he tells Niall the story, pausing at just the right moments for dramatic effect, and by the end they have to stop walking because Niall is doubled over in laughter.

“That’s the funniest shit I have ever heard,” he wheezes, hands clutched at his sides. “Jesus, I regret not tagging along last night. Fuck work.”

Lottie hangs up then, and thankfully Niall doesn’t share the story with her. While it is definitely something he is willing to tell at parties, telling his little sister about the guy he was planning on blowing ended up blowing chunks on him is not a very appealing idea. They continue shopping until it gets dark and they drop her back off at the hotel.

It really wasn’t that bad of a day.

* * *

 

A week and a half later, and Louis is juggling a large bag of popcorn and two drinks while he tries to peek at his movie ticket. Eleanor already went in to grab them some seats, which is poor planning on their part because he’s about two seconds away from dropping their overpriced food. He knows they should have snuck in candy instead, but Eleanor didn’t want to get kicked out from another theater—”This one has _really_ posh seats, Lou!”—so now he just has to suffer.

He’s almost at where he thinks their viewing is being held when his grip on one of the drinks loosens. He almost curses, trying his best to get a firmer hold onto it but it’s way too slippery and when he moves too much, the popcorn starts to spill over the top of the bag. Stupid, stupid movies. Why couldn’t they pirate it like any normal person would do?

But then there are another pair of hands wrapping around the drink, and for a wild moment Louis thinks that Eleanor somehow sensed that her money was in danger of being wasted and ran over here. But no, her hands are not that big and calloused. And it hits him. He isn’t sure how he knows, but he just does, and when he looks up to see Harry’s face grinning back at him Louis actually does curse out loud. Now his not-psychic abilities decide to turn up again. Great.

“‘Ello,” Harry says, taking the cup out of Louis’ hands.

“Harvey,” Louis replies stiffly. He adjusts his hold on the two items in his arms before reaching out for the cup. Harry backs away, shaking his head.

“You’re just doing it on purpose now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Harry bites his lower lip, and it’s pretty cute, actually. Only a little. Louis notices that he’s wearing one of the uniforms for the theater and frowns at it. What about the waiter job? Did Harry get fired in just a week? Or he might have two jobs. It’s not that surprising; Louis has often juggled multiple ones when he’s extra low on funds. He has actually been considering searching for another one so he can send money back home to his family.

Even though he really does not want to give the false impression that he is interested in Harry and what he does in life, Louis can’t help but ask. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah,” Harry draws out the vowels. “I saw this post card once of, you know, Italy. And I thought, ‘I should go to Italy.’ And I got my mate, Liam, to agree to go with me. But it’s really expensive apparently, so here I am.”

Louis stares. “That was the shittiest story I have ever heard.”

Harry laughs so hard that his eyes squint, and for the second time that night Louis appreciate how attractive he is. He has this sort of innocent air around him, but it’s just enough so you won’t feel too creepy if you stare at him for too long. Not that Louis would stare at him. Maybe he did when they first met, but again, he was drunk. And that was before he decided that Harry is the enemy. Those jeans will be avenged.

“I get that a lot,” Harry finally manages to say once he calms down. “What film are you seeing?”

“Some shit called _Gravity_. My friend really wanted to see it.”

“Oh! That’s really, really good. I hope you like it.”

Louis decides right then and there to hate it.

“The soundtrack is phenomenal,” Harry continues, “and the scenery is just—wow. You actually feel like you’re in space, you know? And it makes you feel so claustrophobic even though space goes on and on. It is endless, yeah? And the film makes you realize just how terrifying that is. But it’s still so beautiful despite all of that.”

Louis hums in response. Harry is definitely one of those art freaks, so his suspicions that the restaurant is a den for hipsters is confirmed. Still, listening to Harry talk is oddly relaxing even if Louis’ first instinct is to mock him.

“The most beautiful things in life are usually the ones that can horribly kill you. Or that’s what every single science and nature documentary has taught me, anyway.”

Harry perks up at that. “You watch documentaries?”

“No need to sound so shocked.”

“I didn’t mean for that to come out as insulting or whatever,” Harry says hastily, his cheeks reddening slightly. Louis can’t help but feel somewhat triumphant at that; he likes that he can still fluster the guy. “I like them too. So, I was wondering if we could… watch documentaries together? Later?”

Louis almost laughs, but he manages to hold it in. “Is that you’re way of picking me up? Sorry, but I already have a date.”

The smile from Harry’s face vanishes so quickly it almost gives Louis whiplash. “Oh. Yeah. What time does your movie start?”

“Uh,” Louis blinks. Why does he suddenly feel guilty? “At 9:15.”

“It’s 9:27.”

“Fuck!” Louis yells, startling a crowd of middle schoolers nearby, and he unceremoniously runs to where the film is being shown. When he enters the room, the movie is already playing and it takes him a few seconds to spot where Eleanor is sitting. He practically runs up the steps, earning himself some harsh glances from the other movie goers. He ignores them, though, and plops right next to the girl.

She frowns at him. “Where’s my drink?”

“Er,” he says. He left it with Harry. “I forgot?”

Eleanor sighs, but she can’t be too mad because she takes his hand in hers. It’s been a tradition of theirs since they were in primary school to hold hands while watching films together. Louis smiles at her before turning his attention to the wide screen in front of them, and he is about to settle into the movie when someone else enters. He instantly knows who it is. Their limbs are long and their hair sticks out, and in their hands is definitely a large cup from the drinking fountain. Louis tries to nonchalantly slide further down in his seat, but apparently the movement is noticed by Harry. He heads straight for him and Eleanor.

“You forgot this,” Harry whispers, holding the soda out. His eyes glance down at their clasped hands. At least, Louis thinks they do. It’s too dark to properly tell. He doesn’t actually care.

“Thanks,” Louis says, a little too loudly. The couple a few seats down from them shoot them what is most likely dirty looks. Eleanor just glances between him and Harry, clearly confused since she was under the impression that Louis forgot to buy it.

Harry stands there for another few seconds, mimicking that awkward shuffle he had when Louis walked into Delilah’s. He finally excuses himself and leaves, probably to actually do work at his, you know, job. Louis watches him go, and when he realizes that Eleanor is still looking at him, he refocuses his attention onto the screen. He ends up loving the film, but no one needs to know that.

* * *

 

It’s a Tuesday evening, and Louis is at a small convenience store in front of rows of tampons. His hand is hovering between two brands because, what the fuck, why are there so many choices? Why is he such a fantastic friend that he volunteers to buy people tampons? Admittedly, that is a stretch considering he lost to rock, paper, scissors with Niall, but still.

Now that he thinks about it, shouldn’t this shit be free? It’s not their fault that they bleed from their nether regions.  So why are they expected to pay for it? Maybe he should write a strongly worded letter about this. Before he can further his tampon revolution plans, though, someone suddenly invades his space. They grab one of the boxes that Louis had been considering and hands it over to him. When Louis gets a look at him, he almost does a double take; those are some fine cheekbones attached to a leather jacket. The guy is clearly amused, his lips quirking up as he regards Louis.

“First time shopping for your girlfriend?” he asks.

“Not my girlfriend,” Louis huffs. “But yeah. I’m guessing you’re used to this?”

The cheekbones nod. “I get them every month. That’s the brand Perrie uses, so I dunno if your not girlfriend will like it.”

Louis shrugs. “If she was picky then she could have been more specific. Thanks, man.”

And that should have been the end of the conversation. They both should have walked away at that moment, to return to their separate lives and live their days happily. But no. Of course not. Because at that moment fucking Harry has to stomp into the aisle with his dumb feet and his dumb shoes and he is so dumb.

“Zayn, did you get them ye— _oh_. Hi.”

Louis almost screams. Isn’t there supposed to be over eight million people living in this city? So why is it that he keeps running into this one particular person everywhere he goes. This is beyond ridiculous. The guy, who is apparently named Zayn, looks between them. There’s a strange look in his eye that Louis can swear is recognition, but how would Zayn know him? They never met before until today. Either way, he has obviously gotten the hint that something is going on because he slowly backs away until it’s just the two of them there. Louis wants to call out to him, to tell him to come back, but it probably isn’t a good idea to beg a complete stranger to come to his rescue. Especially when he technically does not need any rescuing done.

It’s somewhat odd seeing Harry out of a uniform. There’s some sort of bandana in his hair that Louis kind of wants to rip out, but he doesn’t think their relationship is at a point where that is acceptable. Not that they even have any sort of relationship. But even with the ridiculous headgear, he looks good. His shirt is a button up, but it’s unbuttoned enough so that Louis can clearly see bird tattoos on his chest. He glances at his own without thinking; Harry mimicks the motion, and he grins once he spots the animal on Louis’ arm.

“Please don’t tell me you work here.”

“Nope,” Harry stuffs his hands into his pockets. Louis isn’t exactly sure how he manages that considering how tight his jeans are. “My shift at Delilah’s start in an hour though. Buying stuff for your girlfriend?”

“They’re not dating!” Zayn’s voice calls out from the next aisle over. Harry actually covers his face with his hands in embarrassment. Louis tries his best not to crack a smile at the action—the guy seems to have told Zayn about him, which explains why he appeared to know who Louis is. That definitely feeds into Louis’ ego.

“You know,” Louis says, casually tucking the package of tampons under his arm in what he hopes is a suave manner. “Harvey. I never did say I have a girlfriend.”

“You said you had a date! And it’s Harry.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, that night. With my platonic friend who is a girl. Anyway, you are really picky about your name considering you never even asked me for mine. Isn’t that rude?”

“Your name is Louis.”

He blinks. How does Harry know that? He doesn’t remember telling him his name. He tries to think back to their many meetings, but he can’t come up any situation where he willingly gave that information. Mainly because Louis would have been a brat about it and probably have given him a fake one. The confusion must be evident on his face because Harry leans in. “You told me at the club.”

Oh, right. So Harry can remember names even when he’s so drunk he projectile vomits. That’s good to know for the future. Not that he plans to on continuing to see him in the future. The only reason he keeps running into him is either a series of freak accidents or God has a terrible sense of humor. Louis would accuse the guy of stalking him, except he’s the one who keeps running into him instead of the other way around. So, in a sense, it’s more like Louis is accidentally stalking Harry. Which is definitely not happening, so he keeps the comment to himself.

“Right. Of course I did. Actually, I don’t remember much from that night besides you ruining my life.”

Harry scrunches up his face in concentration, like he’s trying to figure out what Louis means by that, and it’s an oddly endearing look. “Was it really that terrible?”

“I was traumatized, Harry,” Louis says dramatically, covering his face with his hand. Except that was the arm that was holding the tampons, so they plummet straight to the ground. The sound echoes, just like Louis’ embarrassment.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he looks downright delighted, as if he just won the lottery. The lottery if the prize was a million puppies. “You got my name right!”

“I did no such thing.”

“No, you called me Harry!” He crowds into Louis’ space, his nose inches away from his. Louis notes that Harry’s breath smells like peppermint, and he tries very hard not to think about how much he likes peppermint. Maybe he should swear off that flavor.

“I definitely called you Harvey.” Louis sneaks a glance at Harry’s lips. It’s only for like a second, but Harry definitely notices because he takes another step forward.

“Nuh uh.”

They are going to kiss. Louis knows they are going to kiss. There is literally no alternative ending to this situation. And Harry knows this; it’s evident in his facial expression, with how he’s smiling so big that his dimples—when the _fuck_ did he get _dimples_?—show and there’s a slight blush to his cheeks. And he’s much closer now, so close that all Louis is breathing in is mint and Harry. Then Harry’s lips faintly brush over his own, and that’s when Louis snaps back into reality.

He turns his head so that Harry is now definitely kissing his ear. The taller boy steps back, sputtering slightly, and Louis takes the opening. He quickly picks up the box of tampons from the ground and dashes to the cashier. He sprints past Zayn, who is too busy browsing through a magazine to notice him, and slams the box onto the counter. He doesn’t even register any of the bewildered looks that are getting thrown his way as he slams his cash down and darts outside the store once he’s handed the receipt.

The moment he’s out of the store he pulls his phone out of his pocket and madly dials Niall’s number. It rings for a while, and for a second he fears that he won’t get an answer when suddenly the line clicks.

“We’re not doing two out of three,” Niall says.

“What? No, I already bought the tampons,” Louis sighs. “I have an emergency.”

“You didn’t try sticking one up your bum did you?”

Louis hangs up. Niall calls back a couple of seconds later.

“Okay,” he says, chuckling. “What’s up, Lou?”

“I just ran into Harry. And he—he tried kissing me! Like he was all in my face, lips out, ready to do some tongue wrestling. With me!”

Niall hums in reply. “I don’t see the problem here. I thought that you think he’s fit?”

“I never once called him fit.”

“You don’t need to say it. We all know. So, he tried to snog you. What’s the issue?”

“Because,” Louis says. And he can’t really finish the sentence since he isn’t sure he knows the answer. Yeah, he made up this weird vendetta against the guy, but Louis isn’t really one to say no to making out with a very attractive person. And Harry is very attractive. Extremely attractive. And weirdly endearing in his mannerisms, like how long it takes him to get a sentence out and the way he focuses his attention on you and only you while you talk. It’s pretty nice, actually. Louis squirms at the admittance.

“Just go back and talk to him,” Niall continues. He sounds bored with the conversation already.

“I can’t! Everyone in there probably thinks I’m crazy, I can’t go back now.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m hanging up. Call me back when you’re done being a whiny twat.”

Niall hangs up. Louis stares at his phone in moody silence. The joke’s on Niall, because Louis’ default setting is being a whiny twat. Without looking back, he walks home. It’s frustrating, really. Because he knows he’s being difficult about this. He is very prideful, and he doesn’t want to do what everyone expects him to. So even though he has to grudgingly admit that he would not mind going on a date or two with Harry, Louis refuses to actually do so.

Why would he want to be one of those cliches? This whole situation practically screams cheesy romantic comedy with how much they keep running into each other. And, yeah. Louis actually live and breathes romantic comedies. Watching them gives him fuel. But that doesn’t mean he wants to actually live one. This isn’t a John Green novel, for fuck’s sake.

He thinks this as he enters his flat and digs through his laundry. He thinks this as he stuffs a pair of jeans into a bag then runs outsides. He thinks this when he calls a cab to go further into the city, and as he pays the driver when he’s dropped off in front of a restaurant that’s tucked in the corner between a few shops. He thinks this while he waits, and waits, and waits outside, constantly checking the time on his cell phone until a familiar figure is closing in on him.  And he thinks this when he is suddenly grabbing the jeans out of the bag and tossing it in the face of Harry.

“What the fuck?”

Louis clears his throat. “Yes, hello, Harvey and/or Harry, whichever your name may be—”

“It’s Harry.”

“ _Whichever it may be_. Anyway, I would like for you to apologize to my jeans.”

There’s a moment of silence. And then another moment. Enough time for Louis to start regretting every single decision he has ever made that lead him this moment passes before Harry opens his mouth to speak. “Are these the ones I threw up on?”

“Yes!” Louis practically shouts. “Keep up, man. Say sorry that you ruined them on their debut.”

Harry looks thoughtful. “If I apologize then can I kiss you?”

“I’ll allow you to watch a documentary of your choice with me then we can see where it goes from there.”

The dimples make their return. God, Louis could just lick those dimples. “I’m sorry, Louis’ jeans, for vomiting on you. You were really quite lovely.”

Louis pretends to consider it. He strokes his chin lightly, taking his time to study Harry’s expression. The longer he takes, the less certain the other boy appears. Louis is almost certain that there is a mischievous glint in his eye as he leans in. His lips press against Harry’s, and there’s still a faint trace of peppermint left on his breath. The kiss isn’t anything spectacular. It’s testing the waters, nudging him gently to see where they can go with him. Harry responds enthusiastically, his fingers lacing themselves into Louis’ shirt. Louis briefly wonders where the hell his jeans went if Harry is no longer holding them, but whatever. He breaks away.  “They forgive you.”

Harry smiles sheepishly, and then honest to God fucking boops Louis on the nose with his forefinger. “Good. I have to go to work now, but can I call you later?”

Louis shrugs, but he hands Harry his phone anyway. It takes a second and then it’s back in his hand. Harry plants another chaste kiss onto Louis’ lips before he slips into the restaurant. Once he’s out of sight, Louis checks out his contacts to see the newly added name.

_Harvey ;)_

What a little shit, Louis thinks as he pockets it. But if his trek back to his cramped flat in his cramped building in his cramped neighborhood has an extra spring to his step, well, no one else has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [yukikoamagi](http://yukikoamagi.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. My blog is multifandom as fuck though, so beware of many non-1D related things.


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